


Real

by Persephoneshadow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Coda, Crying Dean, Episode: s12e09 First Blood, M/M, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9491546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephoneshadow/pseuds/Persephoneshadow
Summary: Dean turns and grabs him, kissing the words away before they can form. Cas meets him, fiercely and fervent. He’s still angry, underneath the guilt and regret there’s still rage that they’re here again. And Dean wants it. He wants the heated fury that Cas doesn’t hold back when he tears off Dean’s prison grey. He wants the salt of sweat and maybe tears and the scrape of stubble and the broken sound Cas makes when Dean pushes off his coat and shirt and finally makes it to skin.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops I wrote a coda cause I wanted to suffer MORE.

Mom and Sam let them be when they make it home to the bunker. The yelling and the ‘what the fuck are we doing?’ conversations will come later. Sam nods and Mom doesn’t blink when Dean takes Cas’s hand and leads him to Dean’s room.

Nothing’s moved. It’s like a museum or a shrine. A perfect replica of the one Dean built painstakingly in his mind in that cell, or tried to before those few square feet started chocking the life out of him. Until the whole world disappeared. Until he forgot that he even had a home or had ever existed beyond four cold walls.

“Dean…” Cas’s voice is hesitant, apologetic.

Cas still thinks he has to say he’s sorry. Fuck. He’s the reason Dean’s still here. Still thinking and breathing and existing. He shouldn’t be sorry. That's Dean's job, because he fucked up again and now Cas has to pay for it. Again.

Dean turns and grabs him, kissing more words away before they can form. Cas meets him, fierce and fervent. He’s still angry, underneath the guilt and regret there’s still rage that they’re here _again_. cas with blood on his hands for Dean again. He deserves to tear Dean apart. And Dean wants it. He wants the heated fury that Cas doesn’t hold back when he tears of Dean’s prison grey. He wants the salt of sweat and maybe tears and the scrape of stubble and the broken sound Cas makes when Dean pushes off his coat and shirt and finally makes it to skin.

“Shit…” he gulps. He’s shaking a like a leaf with his hand on Cas’s chest, trying to hold himself together and failing. “I…”

“I know.”

It has been so long, so fucking long, since he’s touched anything. Too long since Dean has felt warmth or softness or hope of any kind. But he’s here now and with Cas touching him. His skin is smooth and heated and real under Dean's trembling hands. He can feel his hard cock against his own. Even if this is a thing they don’t talk about, that just happens sometimes in the dark, it’s real and he’s home. It's Cas.

“Thought I wouldn’t get this again, ever,” Dean confesses, melting as Cas strips off the last of their clothes and presses close.

“Me too.” Cas sounds just as broken as Dean feels. “I thought you were dying,” he murmurs as he pushes Dean back towards the bed. “I could feel you, but every day it faded more and more and you never…”

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers and Cas kisses him, anger still simmering but desperate in his touch.

“I couldn’t find you, I couldn’t do anything and then you…” Cas’s hand tangles in the blanket beside Dean in rage and Dean shakes his head, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the hurt and the love in the face above him.

“I’m sorry.” Dean doesn’t know what else to say. Hell, he’s still remembering how to _talk_ , not that he was ever any good at it. “Please, Cas, just…”

No words. Just a nod, the sound of rummaging in a drawer as Cas presses against him. The touch of skin on skin, a palm against Dean’s side. The pop of a cap. Cold, slick fingers breaching him.

“Fuck…” It’s a sob, there’s no dressing it up. His eyes are leaking salt and his breath is rough as Cas opens him up, quick and rough, and he’s crying because it feels so good. Not soon enough Cas pushes his legs up, gripping Dean’s thighs and slides slowly into him. Dean lets out another broken sound. There’s a burn and he feels so full he could burst.. His joints ache and Cas’s hand is so tight on his hips it’s going to bruise but Dean takes it all. The pain and pleasure and heat, all of it. Only hen Cas is finally fully does Dean dare to open his eyes. The face above him is etched with agony.

“I had to,” Dean whispers. “I wasn’t me. There was nothing left…I just…I wasn’t real. I…” He’s shaking again, the walls closing in around him. Fuck, he’s going to wake up in that cell again because this is all a dream and he can’t even die he…

“You’re real, Dean, it’s all real,” Cas’s voice calls through the panic. He kisses Dean’s forehead, desperate and rough, and starts moving. “You’re here.”

Dean groans, arms and legs wrapping around Cas as he fucks into him. He picks up pace fast, thrusting hard into Dean, because Cas knows what he needs. Dean doesn’t even have the presence of mind to touch his own dick, but when Cas does it’s tight and fast and perfect. Nothing about this is gentle or easy now, and the sounds they’re both making are echoing off the walls. But it’s better than all the screaming that was in his head, and he’ll take anything over silence.

He comes first, nails digging into Cas’s back, crying out something akin to Cas’s name. A few more thrusts and Cas follows, pouring hot into Dean. The world is nicely out of focus as the last waves of the orgasm ebb away, then it sharpens instantly back when Cas withdraws.

“Please don’t go,” Dean gasps, grabbing Cas tight. “Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean cares less about the mess than he did about the noise that he knows his family probably heard. All that he cares about right now is Cas pulling the covers over them and pulling Dean tight against him.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere either,” Cas adds, his voice tender and firm in the dark. “Ever.”

“Deal.”

 

 


End file.
